Chapter Nine
"Well, that was dramatic," I say, helpfully, when the broadcast fades away.
"Nothing?" asks Delly.
I watch Molina scratch something on his clipboard. "No. Sorry."
"Peeta," says Prim thoughtfully, "it looks like we didn't have to do an additional morphling dose, there. Do you think he might be ready to try looking at the arena videos again, Dr. Molina?"
"I think we might be able to start that, yes. But we must be very careful to curate the right videos. And each one must be preceded by a one-on-one session with me."
Yes, I think, of course - they have to make sure I am told the "real" story.
He frowns suddenly, and presses his ear, where, I know, there is an earpiece through which he can hear voices from beyond this room.
"We'll discuss the plan later," he says, and leaves the room hastily.
His exit is followed in short order by Haymitch's entrance. Haymitch is dressed, rebelliously enough, in an undershirt instead of the blouse of his 13 uniform. He looks considerably more comfortable and, in fact, a little less yellow.
"How's the head-scraping coming along?" he asks.
I frown. He's almost in a good mood. Almost, I think, because there's something forced about it.
Prim is sincere and serious, so she's never bantered with Haymitch the way Katniss and I were always able to. She meets his smiling face with an earnest expression. "So well, in fact, after the initial calming dose, Peeta was able to watch that last interview without any extra morphling."
"I bet you never thought your life would be measured by your drug use," he tells me.
"I bet you never thought yours would be measured by how many days you've been without booze," I retort.
He laughs. "So - did you remember anything? Like - how'd you know about the attack on 13?"
"No, nothing. Maybe it's the fact that they clearly beat me senseless right after all of that."
He cocks his head to one side and stares at me with a bemused expression.
"I don't seem to be the gifted orator everyone keeps talking about," I continue, as if challenging him.
"I never thought that was your strongest suit, anyway," Haymitch replies.
This takes me by surprise. Wasn't I always the mouthpiece of the group? When I look at Haymitch - when I try to remember the details of our alliance - that is the word that always pops into my head. But now - another word does. "Yeah, I think we've all figured out what my greatest strength is. I seem to have a special gift for self-destruction."
"Oh, boo hoo," says Haymitch, with a scowl. "And none of the rest of us has sacrificed a damn single thing."
I hold out my wrecked arms. "I win that argument, every time. Sorry."
"I'll compare 24 years of notes with you that would make your head spin, boy, the things I've seen."
"Fuck off," I tell him.
"Peeta!" says Delly.
But Haymitch grins. "I think I like this version better than the old one."
"Well - you're the only one," I answer.
"You're no different, not really," he says. "This was always you, just buried under that chivalrous romantic crap."
Delly and Prim both protest, but I pause. Could this be true? Was that love-sick stuff just a mask I put on because I thought it looked good on me? I honestly don't remember feeling any of it. Not for real. But I squint at Haymitch. "Why don't you tell Prim the truth, Haymitch? What's going on?"
He starts, the amusement draining from his face. "What the -?" He swallows. "That's what I came in here to do," he insists, turning to Prim. "A contingent of special forces has gone to 2 - that includes Gale and Beetee. They made some sort of decision about the military base and it's going to be carried out tonight. I have to sit in on special forces, tonight - I have to feed a speech - to the Mockingjay."
Prim jumps. "Oh, no. A speech? Is there going to be a fight or something?"
"We're hoping she can inspire a surrender."
"Yeah, because she's done such a good job of that, so far."
"Peeta," says Prim, reprovingly.
"Yeah - it's a brilliant idea," frowns Haymitch. "Particularly since she takes cues about as well as I take to tea. But - whatever - you'll be able to watch it on TV, as usual."
Prim has duties in the hospital and Delly some sort of schedule to maintain, as well, so they leave me until lunch. I spend the time alternating between folding the corners of my hospital sheets into origami-like figures, and stretching my legs by walking around and around the little room. After lunch, I'm surprised to see the TV back, along with Haymitch and Prim.
"I kinda thought we were done for the day," I say. "Don't you have something to be doing?" I ask Haymitch.
"Not until later."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to see any arena stuff until after - counseling," I add, eyeing the TV.
"This isn't," said Prim. "Just some footage of Katniss that never aired."
I don't know what I'm expecting; when they start the tape, it's a sunny day; there's a lake in the woods. It's an unfamiliar place and time. Katniss is standing under a tree, and she suddenly opens her mouth to sing.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man, they say who murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
I sit upright in bed and stare at the screen, intensely. In the pause between each line, I'm not looking at her face, I'm not waiting for her next words. I'm listening for the silence. The perfect stillness as the air, the ground, the birds fall to listening.
And it's there, just as it was before.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee…
I'm in the backyard of the bakery, standing on the bottom slat of the pigpen, amusing myself by letting go and seeing how long it takes for me to fall. Above me, the apple tree is in full spring bloom, the delicately-curled petals just starting to fall here and there. A brown thrasher has made a nest in the tree this year and is calling out to her friends in her language which, like her cousin the mockingbird, is diverse and prone to mimicry.
From the alleyway, I hear a voice, which is as rich and tuneful as I've heard described.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
I listen for it - the bird call. But she has fallen silent, as I was always told she would.
I gasp out loud, making both Prim and Haymitch jump. "I know this - I know this! I remember…."
"You've heard Katniss sing this before?" asks Prim, dubiously.
"No - no."
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
I'm confused by a flood of memories, and I'm stunned into silence for a moment. I'll see you at midnight.
The lightning tree.
Green. Green. Green. Orange.
Finally, I pull myself up for air, and I notice that I'm leaning forward, rubbing my temple almost maniacally. I abruptly stop, because I know it must make me look crazy. "Your father," I tell Prim. "I heard him sing it once."
Prim's mouth opens in a surprised 'oh.' "Really? When?"
"I - I - think I was small, six or maybe seven. He came to the bakery to trade. I listened - for the birds to stop singing."
She glances at Haymitch, and he gives me a smile of enormous relief. They both seem to think it some kind of breakthrough. I just look curiously back at the screen where the mutt - no, Everdeen's daughter - just a girl from the Seam … has fallen silent and waits, leaning against a tree. And as the echo of her voice dies away, the mockingjays take up her song, and it tumbles in the air.
"I've got to go," says Haymitch abruptly.
I am utterly lost in song for the moment. "The Hanging Tree," yes. And a lullaby sung in the arena. And a song she sang in front of an open window. The first day of school. Not a mutt, at all - in fact, in all ways the opposite. Pure.
(What is the mutt, then? If it was never her? What is it?)
After a while, I turn to Prim. "Don't you - want to go watch - the … thing?" I ask her.
She shrugs. "I don't want to watch it in the common rooms - I don't want to deal with anybody if something should happen. Usually, I'd watch this sort of thing with mom, but she's on shift tonight."
Oh. The resigned words of a girl who has been forced to watch her sister struggle against death – live on camera – for years now. I squirm uncomfortably, but I feel I owe Prim somehow for bringing me the tape of the song. "Do you want to watch it in here?"
She turns to me, thoughtfully. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
I shrug. "How would I know? Anyway - I've seen worse things, I'm pretty sure. Besides - I don't even know what's going on out there. Like - are we really winning?"
Prim tells me that we actually are. All of the districts, except for 2 - and 12 of course - are in rebel hands. District 2, it turns out, has a hidden industry - in much the way that District 13 did. Back before the Dark Days, 13 was supposedly built on graphite mines, but its true industry (I've since learned) was the storage and maintenance of nuclear technology from pre-Panem times. The Capitol had another, smaller arsenal in the mountains. That is now housed in District 2, which, while still nominally built around stone mines and quarries, is actually the base for almost all of the Capitol's weapons and warcraft; it's also the primary source of its Peacekeepers.
This puts a whole new spin on the Dark Days, I think to myself. Apparently, at the end of the war, after the districts had been decimated and the rebels mostly killed, it came down to the Capitol and 13 pointing their nuclear weapons at each other. Thirteen was allowed to leave the jurisdiction of the Capitol, playing dead while the rest of Panem surrendered and the current tyranny began. It turns out my distaste for this place, which started with their leaving me behind to the Capitol and has ended with my drugged-out captivity - might have a basis in facts that have nothing to do with me.
I resist the urge to grip Prim's arm. I'm very careful to make no sudden and aggressive moves around her. So, instead I grip my bedsheets and stare down at my knuckles. "Why are we supposed to trust these people, Prim?"
She looks at me, startled; I may have interrupted her description of what is planned to happen in 2 tonight. "Because they want to get rid of Snow."
I have no answer to that.
Prim goes away briefly to change into some civvies and brings some knitting back with her. She turns on the TV and adjusts its knobs and antenna until she's got the District 13 feed of District 2, which at the moment is just a shot of the Justice Building there. I remember that place - I remember that miserable day. I lie down and curl myself up on my side, back to the TV, and anxiously clench and unclench my hands. I hear screaming. The mutt's scream. I mean - Katniss' screams. And it has something to do with District 2.
Without warning, I'm in a dream, running along wood-panelled corridors. This time, I reach a door, and I pound on it, and then finally enter.
She's sitting up in bed, tears streaking her face. She holds out her arms to me and I climb into them without hesitation.
"We have to get out of it," she whispers into the dark.
I put my thumb on her cheeks and wipe away the tears. I am mute, voiceless. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes start shining.
I start, and try to back away, but her arms are strong and they pin mine back against the bed. A lithe creature, she mounts me with one quick motion, her groin on mine. Before I can protest or agree or make any kind of sound, her face - her whole body - starts to shimmer, and quiver, and the whole dream collapses into shiny, exploding sparks.
I wake, sitting up abruptly and with a gasp, making Prim jump. "What is it?"
I tremble as the room shimmers around me. No … no … no, I don't want to go back there. Very soon, I will have to warn Prim - to leave the room. They've been reckless today. I'm not hooked up to the drugs; I'm only very loosely restrained at the waist, and my hands could pull that off, if I really wanted it gone. I grip the bed railing with both hands and hold on - tighter, tighter. I'll break my own fingers if I have to - I won't go back.
And then, slowly, but surely, it recedes, leaving me exhausted but whole. "Nothing - a bad dream," I say hoarsely. Then I look at her. "Prim - I don't want you to go. But, I do want you to hook me up to the morphling. Please."
She does as I ask without comment. I stare down at the lumps my feet make under the sheets for a long time; I can feel her glance at me a couple of times, but I don't want to have to answer any questions or make any apologies. Once, I look straight up into the one-way glass to my reflection, daring any of my secret observers to come in and put me in full restraints. But I seem to have got away with it.
After dinner is cleared away, that's when things finally start happening on the screen. The camera angle abruptly changes, and suddenly we're seeing a group of people clustered on a rooftop in the low light of a setting sun. Among some gray-uniformed soldiers, and some ragged-looking civilians, I see her. There's no mistaking Cinna's armor design as her silhouette darkens to black against the sky. This is a raw feed - there are no announcements being made over this; no explanations for what we're seeing. What we do see are several hovercraft flying around the top of a mountain, firing into it. Prim explains to me - again, I guess - that the mountain houses most of the Capitol's war resources. Eventually, the earth gives way and a spectacular avalanche flows just like lava down the sides of the mountain. Many of the people watching the destruction jump up and down and cheer, their guns in the air.
The camera zooms in on Katniss' stony face just when she puts her hands on her mouth. Her eyes widen in alarm.
After a few moments she drops her arms and seems to say something out loud. Then she and the rest of the people move hastily from their position on the roof, the camera video jolting up and down as the camera operator runs with the rest of them.
When the group reconvenes, we can see they are in the entrance to District 2's Justice Hall, just outside the doors. Katniss is sitting against a pillar, in conversation with one of the 13 soldiers, who is leaning over her.
I grow frustrated by whatever camera person is filming this event, because whoever it is seems to be wandering around the verandah, getting blurry shots of the waiting crowd. I'm eager to continue to see Katniss - who seems alone in her distress. When we see her, she seems to be talking to herself; then I realize, she has an earpiece in her ear - for the speech that Haymitch will feed to her. Perhaps he's talking to her now.
Shortly after that, the camera starts jerking around again, following the action of a group of soldiers - I think I catch a glimpse of Gale among them - running down the stairs and to the square. It's too dark to see much except for the flash of gunfire. Thankfully.
Then it's quiet again. Hours pass. Mrs. Everdeen joins us; she gives me a smile and starts knitting as well. With nothing to occupy my mind except for my thoughts - I try to recreate the truth about the night I shared a bed with Katniss Everdeen. The more I think about it, the more there seem to be. I can piece together three nights, at least. I can remember waking up with my mouth full of her hair. I can remember, now - being hard for her. How far did it go? Did she actually - do the things my mind remembers? Even the shiny parts? The Capitol could have no tapes of these nights (or could they?), so there was nothing to alter.
Was there actually a baby? Mine? I shake my head. Of all the things to forget….
Finally, well after midnight, there is a sudden burst of light on the screen and we see Katniss step out into a spotlight on the steps. She clears her throat and looks slightly up. "People of District 2, this is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to you from the steps of your Justice Building, where -."
Katniss cuts off her speech and looks up in alarm. The camera cuts away to show the nearby train station, where two trains are pulling in, braking hard - their wheels sparking and blowing up smoke. As soon as they stop, a mess of the passengers - dust colored and indistinguishable - jump off the train and dive immediately to the ground. They are met with gunfire, and the spray of bullets takes out the train station lights, enveloping the District 2 loyalists in an eerie half-darkness. Then there's a flash of sparks, and a fire breaks out in one of the trains.
Against the backdrop of the glow, we can see shadowy figures emerge from the train, holding their own guns in the air. Close to the camera, one young man stumbles forward, seemingly unaware of where he is going, holding his hand to his face. He trips and falls steps away from the camera.
"Stop!" shouts Katniss. She sprints into the camera sights, and Prim and her mother gasp. "Hold your fire! Stop!"
She is actually bending down to the young man, holding her hands out to him, when he pushes himself up and points a gun at her head.
I'm almost more interested in the reactions of my companions. They are now clutching each other, Prim having risen to her feet to stand next to her mother. On screen, everyone has gone so still, the feed might have frozen, but eventually, the young man stirs and speaks. "Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you."
After a long pause, Katniss says, "I can't." Startled, the young man eases back on his heels a little, though he does not lower his gun. "I can't," she says, in a louder voice. "That's the problem, isn't it?" She lowers her bow. "We blew up your mine. You burned my district to the ground. We've got every reason to kill each other. So do it. Make the Capitol happy. I'm done killing their slaves for them." She drops her bow, and nudges it away from her with her toe. Despite myself, I tense and I will not be surprised if a dose of morphling is in my immediate future.
"I'm not their slave."
"I am," she says, and I'm surprised at a quality in her voice - a darkness - that doesn't sound like the voice I've heard on tape. "That's why I killed Cato … and he killed Thresh … and he killed Clove … and she tried to kill me. It just goes around and around, and who wins? Not us. Not the districts. Always the Capitol. But I'm tired of being a piece in their Games."
I find myself mouthing the words myself … a piece in their Games. It has a familiar ring. But I can't quite place it.
After a pause, she swallows and continues. "When I saw that mountain fall tonight, I thought … they've done it again. Got me to kill you - the people in the districts. But why did I do it? District 12 and District 2 have no fight except the one the Capitol gave us." She sinks to the ground, and her voice lowers - but her microphone picks up every word. "And why are you fighting with the rebels on the rooftops? With Lyme, who was your victor? With people who were your neighbors, maybe even your family?"
"I don't know," he croaks, with a shake of his head. His look at her is not so much awestruck as it is stunned into submission. Or maybe I'm projecting, but I have to say - I'm flabbergasted by this. That's what it felt like, to be in the arena, I think. I had no fight with the Careers, with Pax, the girl from District 8, with Brutus, the man I killed with my own hands. No reason to want them dead except that the Capitol told me that was what I was supposed to want.
She stands up, turns around and takes a deep breath. I can see her exhausted face. "And you up there? I come from a mining town. Since when do miners condemn other miners to that kind of death, and then stand by to kill whoever manages to crawl from the rubble?" As she speaks, her eyes dart around as if looking for someone in particular; then, she finally looks straight at the camera. "These people," she says, pointing behind her at the trains, "are not your enemy!" She turns back around. "The rebels are not your enemy! We all have one enemy, and it's the Capitol! This is our chance to put an end to their power, but we need every district person to do it!" She reaches down again, to the man with the gun. "Please join us!"
From somewhere in the back of the crowd, there is a flash of a muzzle and the sound of a shot, and Katniss falls to the ground.